


the treasures of secrets

by LeperMessiah



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - British, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author never met a trope she didn't like, Basement love, Don't sniff unknown substances, F/M, Heavy on pollen induced smut, If you hadn't guessed so far this is ridiculous and mostly porn, Rey and Ben are repressed academics, Rivals to Lovers, Sex Pollen, Sheltering in place but wartime, Tea is good though, The Blitz, The book is real, The sex magic part is fake, There was only one cot, This is a sex pollen fic, World War II, light on plot, spfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeperMessiah/pseuds/LeperMessiah
Summary: Rey and Ben are archivists at the University of Chandrila in Devon during WW2. They are attempting to examine a book called the 'The book of the suns of lights and the treasures of secrets': a treatise on charms and talismans) by Ibn al-Hajj Muhammed ibn Muhammed (d1336 A.D.), printed in 1868. It was stored in a wooden box with pollen of an unknown flower inside.Ben accidentally inhales some of the pollen and falls to its unfortunate properties in the middle of an air-raid blackout. Ben and Rey take cover in the basement.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 28
Kudos: 99
Collections: Sex Pollen to the Rescue





	the treasures of secrets

Once again Rey reflected bitterly on the unfairness of life during wartime. Of all of the men to remain with at the homefront, she was stuck with exacting snob Ben Solo. She watched from her desk as Solo marked with a biro through her work, filling up her notes with his own corrections.

  


Rey inhaled slowly through her nostrils, and out through her mouth, in an attempt to cool her temper. Getting angry wouldn’t help. She knew this from experience, as any evidence of pique brought an amused little smile to the lips of her office-mate and fellow archivist.

  


He enjoyed getting a rise out of her, the only display of pleasure he’d ever evinced, at least in Rey’s presence.

  


Of course, her grandfather, the Rev. Palpatine, had also often remarked on his relative’s unladylike displays of anger, which didn’t help any.

  


“A young woman like yourself, taking a man’s job at the archive—you ought to count your blessings,” he’d remarked on several occasions. Protesting, Rey would correct her elder. The men were at war and women were filling the positions, and quite ably, thank you very much. The Reverend would simply sniff, “Temper, dear,” and crack his copy of the Times back open to hide his unlovely visage.

  


It’s not like it was a London job, Rey thought. The archives of the University of Chandrila, in Devon, wasn’t a plum position even in peacetime. They ought to feel lucky to have her on staff, she thought to herself. It failed to cheer her up.

  


She had a precious store of biscuits in her drawer for emergencies, which this was rapidly becoming. Rey narrowed her eyes across the office, willing Ben Solo to look up and see her glaring at him. The clock ticked on, and he failed to heed her mental bidding. She crept her hand down to her desk drawer, pulling it out slowly, hoping it would go unheard, and she could nibble on her treat in peace.

  


“Tea?” Ben asked, suddenly looming over her.

  


Rey stifled a scream.

  


“No. I mean, yes,” she answered breathlessly. Ben smirked. She was losing this war.

  


She covered her discomfiture by smoothing down her spit-curls in front of her ears. Rey tried to make her face as blank as possible. It was just tea. Teatime was a normal human function, one of the social rituals that prevented people from murdering each other. Usually.

  


Ben was mysterious about why he had remained behind from the war. He seemed perfectly able-bodied, and mentally fit, if choleric. He was a tall, well-favoured man, strong of limb. He couldn’t be above 35 year of age. When pressed, he’d answer shortly about being in some kind of officer in the reserve forces, something to do with something secret, and it wasn’t any of Rey’s business anyway.

  


Rey suspected his Uncle Luke, someone high-up in military intelligence, rumour had it, had pulled some strings. Probably to prevent aggravated enlisted men from potentially killing their superior officer and burying him in the woods, Rey speculated.

  


He did rather inspire one to consider homicide.

  


The only evidence of the military about him was his propensity to wear officer’s trousers as everyday dress, with an ivory shirt. Rey would find herself examining the fish-tail waistline of the wool trousers closely when he occasioned to wear them. Today was just such a day. It created a winsome display of his backside as he bent to fill the teapot with hot water from the electric kettle.

  


Unfortunately, what Solo lacked in sweetness of temperament, he more than made up with in having the mien of a beautiful Lucifer. This was also a testimony to the unfairness of life during wartime.

  


Rey silently joined Solo at the wooden counter where they also sorted books and he poured her a mug of tea. They then repaired to a set of broken-in leather chairs nearby to enjoy their break around a low table.

  


“Drink up,” Ben said, “this is going to be rationed soon. Sugar too.” He pushed the sugar bowl toward Rey.

  


She took two lumps and stirred them with feeling into her mug. It was so like him to only have unpleasant news.

  


“At least the weather is nice today,” she remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

  


“Yes,” said Ben, “ideal conditions for an air raid. I expect Warden will sound the alarm tonight.”

  


Bloody hell, thought Rey. She’d have been better off in the fields with her friends as a Land Girl then hacking away indoors with Satan himself.

  


At least the books were nice--that part of things almost made up for the company she was forced to keep.

  


They’d gotten a few shipments of books to store, to protect them from the more at-risk intellectual centers in regions subject to heavier bombardment from the Germans.

  


It was Rey’s job to check the books that arrived with the packing lists and make note of any discrepancies. It wouldn’t be any good to be blamed for the disappearance of a priceless treasure because of her carelessness. It was more like clerking than archive work, but at least she got to handle the books.

  


Solo, being senior, and a man, got to enjoy the work of cataloguing and transcribing. He also focused on preservation of the materials, an area he was grudgingly beginning to share with Rey.

  


“Break’s over, Miss Palpatine,” Ben announced and got up and stretched. He gestured to a wooden carton over on the counter.

  


Rey stared at him over the rim of her mug and slowly and deliberately took another long sip of tea. He stood over her, shifting from foot to foot. Watching him, she delicately drained the last of her sugary dregs and carefully placed the mug back near the teapot. She stood up and smoothed down her skirt and smiled up at her adversary.

  


His brow had darkened and there was no trace of a smirk now.

  


“Of course, sir,” Rey intoned in as neutral a tone as she could muster, inwardly rejoicing. Palpatine One -- Solo Zed.

  


Ben flinched but said nothing. He lurched over to the carton and began disemboweling it, strewing its contents across the counter.

  


“Careful,” Rey exclaimed, and hopped closer to rescue the books. Ben said nothing, but did slow down, extracting books and placing them in a row between them to examine the spines. Silently, he slid the manifest for the carton over to Rey, and she picked up a pen to check the list.

  


She sensed a pause in activity and looked over to see Ben examining a carved wooden box, oblong in shape. He gently turned it, inspecting the carvings. There was a label adhered with gum to the spine of the box, which looked as if it would hold a book.

  


“What is it?” Rey asked. The lettering was not familiar to her.

  


“It says 'Kitab shumus al-anwar wa-kunuz al-asrar',” answered Ben, smugly. He saw her face and relented.

  


“It means, 'The book of the suns of lights and the treasures of secrets.' It’s in Arabic,” he added helpfully.

  


Rey concealed a roll of her eyes.

  


“The box isn’t, however. Looks later. Probably some demented Victorian orientalist had it fashioned to hold the book. It’s got petunias or something carved on it,” Ben sniffed.

  


Rey examined her list. She couldn’t find it on her manifest.

  


She shook her head. “I don’t see it on here.”

  


Ben nodded. “It could be that the book inside doesn’t match the box, and that title is the one on the list.”

  


Rey wondered privately if the box was safe to open. It looked rather delicate.

  


Ben ran a finger around the edge until he appeared to find a concealed latch. Prying gently with a fingernail, he rocked the box slightly until Rey heard a pop of the latch releasing. He slowly lifted the lid.

  


There was a book inside, nestled in wood shavings and surrounded by different little objects and leather sacks.

  


“Ugh, what a nightmare,” Ben said. “This is also probably riddled with insects.” Rey felt sympathy. Foreign material was horrible for delicate old paper.

  


Carefully, Ben drew out the book, taking care to disturb things as little as possible. He turned it to look at the spine.

  


He looked puzzled, “It’s the same title as the one on the box.” 

  


“There must have been a mistake,” Rey said. “I’ll have to check off all the other books on the list and see which one we were supposed to have instead of this one. Then I can write and tell them there was a mix-up.” 

  


Ben was slowly creaking the book open, using caution so as not to injure the spine. Rey leaned in to take a closer look.

  


Even though she couldn’t make out the script, it seemed to her to be a very attractive book. There were agreeable charts, diagrams, and sketches throughout the text. Ben also seemed pleased, humming a bit in his throat.

  


“It appears to be a bit of everything, it was written in the 14th century.” he explained. “Botanicals, stone amulets, charms, magic, some medicine, and er…love spells too, apparently. Or at any rate, there is something here about ‘the mystery of love.’ The author is Ibn al-Hajj Muhammed. Seen other things before by him.”

  


Evidently over-supplying information was Ben’s method for dealing with discomposing thoughts.

  


“And what are all these little things, sacks and whatnot?” asked Rey to distract him.

  


Wordlessly, Ben pulled them out one by one onto the counter. “I’m almost 99 percent certain these are not contemporary with the book. Probably stuck in there by that same collector who made the box.”

  


“Perhaps he was experimenting,” Rey chirped helpfully. Ben glanced at her sidelong and frowned but didn’t bother to disagree.

  


By dint of judicious prying, Rey and Ben managed to open many of the little containers and leather sacks. For a moment, their enmity forgotten, they exclaimed in interest over the many curious items.

  


One sack had a small polished sphere, with a black mirror-bright surface. Another contained a small round wax tablet, inscribed with symbols. There was a wooden rod, with dials that twisted. Rolls of papyrus were stuffed in a bag that looked as if it were alligator skin. Ben began to open the last little wooden box, having pried the lid open, and he peered into it with anticipation.

  


They were both so absorbed in their examinations that when the air-raid siren went off, both Ben and Rey shouted and jumped at the same time. The contents of the box in Ben’s hand puffed out in a cloud of purple, settled in a mist around his face, and then began to descend toward the pages of the book.

  


“Bloody!” he shouted. He ignored the dull purple shadowing around his nose and mouth, trying to rescue the book from damage from the unknown substance.

  


Rey ran to the washroom to find a cloth or something to help with. She filled a basin with water to wash the mystery powder off of Ben.

  


When she returned, Ben was muttering over the open page with a soft piece of linen, gingerly wiping the small dull grains off of the parchment. “Don’t think there was any real harm done. Wasn’t something sticky, thank the gods.”

  


“Ben, you’re breathing it in though!” Rey exclaimed. “We must get if off you.” Who knew what it could be? Some nasty latter-day alchemical substance, no doubt. The Victorians were bonkers.

  


“Rey, if it eats through this book, it will be BOTH of our hides,” Ben rejoined impatiently. He appeared to be in no immediate danger. Served him right if it gave him a rash though, Rey thought bitterly.

  


Focusing on the fact that the air-raid siren had indeed gone off, Rey scurried to make sure the blackout curtains were in place. She couldn’t believe it had gotten so late. Apparently, Ben had been correct. The clear skies above were perfect air raid weather. Nasty Germans. Now she and Ben were trapped here sheltering together.

  


Shelter.

  


“Is there a shelter here?” Rey asked.

  


Ben looked at her as if she’d spoken from another dimension. Then he nodded slowly. “Yes, there’s a bit of a room down in the basement. We’ll be fine in there. There’s some rations and water.” 

  


Well that was all right then. No doubt her grandfather wouldn’t be best pleased with her not being at home during the raid, but the sturdy old University was probably safer during a bombardment.

  


Ben finished his treatment of the old book and turned to repair the mess on his face. He wiped with a rag around his mouth, but only succeeded in smearing the substance. Rey exclaimed at his stubbornness. She seized the rag from him and commenced to rinse him properly.

  


“What do you think it was?” she asked, gesturing. 

  


Ben seemed thoughtful. “It had a floral scent for a moment, and then seemed to smell slightly metallic,” he answered. “Doesn’t itch or anything. Might be some kind of dried pigment? It didn’t seem to stain though.” 

  


No wonder he’d been so concerned for the book. As she wiped his face, the substance didn’t seem to leave a stain on his skin either.

  


“Well, I hope you’re not allergic,” Rey said. “You’re lucky it wasn’t volatile though.”

  


Ben cleared his throat and Rey realized she was standing quite in his personal space, even though she was finished cleaning him up.

  


“I’ll just go and rinse this out. Perhaps you can collect the tea things and we can move them down to the shelter?”

  


How embarrassing, she was such a little fool. In the washroom, she drained the basin of the pinkish water and squeezed out the rag and hung it to dry on the radiator. Rey checked her face in the scratchy washroom mirror, dim and fogged from its decades in use. She looked a bit wild around the eyes. She refreshed her lip color and told herself to stiffen up. It was going to be a long night. Trying to avoid disturbing the august Ben Solo for several hours of enforced togetherness would take an effort of will and character.

  


When she emerged, Ben was waiting for her politely, cradling the wooden box the books had arrived in, now repurposed for a carton for the tea things. He led them to the door to the basement stairs and then nodded with his head for Rey to open the door.

  


Carefully, she picked her way down a long flight of stone stairs in the dark, hearing Ben behind her, delicately toeing the steps to avoid toppling over on his way down.

  


Finally, Rey reached the bottom of the steps and stopped still. She felt Ben move around her and heard him put down the box with a muffled thump.

  


“Close your eyes,” he said. “I’m turning the light on.” Rey covered her eyes but was dimly aware of a watery sepia glow through her fingers.

  


Slowly she removed her hands from her face and looked around.

  


It was a small and enclosed room, much like a damp underground shed. The stone walls were whitewashed but yellowed from age and water leaks. There was a footlocker with ration packets, some canteens, and a first-aid kit.

  


And there was a small mattress from a cot on the floor, covered with an olive-green military blanket.

  


“Er, is that the only thing to sit on?” asked Rey. Ben was fumbling along the wall for the electric socket and plugging in the water kettle. Rey reached into the wooden box and pulled out the tea and mugs, placing them on a ledge. Housekeeping done.

  


Ben straightened up to look at Rey and said, “Yes. Unless you’d like to go back up and drag some chairs down here.” 

  


She pretended to look at a corner of the room. “I was just asking,” she replied distantly.

  


She checked again in the wood carton to see if there was anything else in there. Yes, Ben had brought down the mystery book and its box.

  


“Might as well get some work done if we’re stuck down here,” said Ben, as she pulled it out. Rey sighed inwardly. He could have at least brought something for her to read too.

  


“Try to get some sleep,” Ben said, formally but not unkindly. “I can sit on the end here, while you nap. I’ll sleep when you wake up.”

  


Rey did feel tired suddenly. She nodded and slipped her shoes off, putting them by the foot of the stairs. She curled up on top of the blanket—getting under it in the presence of a man seemed slightly indecent. It was only for one night, but she didn’t wish to invite gossip from the parish.

  


The buzzing yellowish light swayed overhead, and she heard Ben Solo murmuring under his breath as he read from the book.

  


Gradually, her eyelids grew heavy and she thought no more.

  


She awoke to the sound of screaming and roaring metal and jumped upright. Her heart was pounding, and her guts tightened, until she realized that she was hearing the distant groan of fighter planes overhead. Rey blinked to adjust her sight to the dim glow of the shelter, slowly coming back, becoming aware of her surroundings once again.

  


Ben was slumped over, and she realized some of the groaning noises were also coming from him.

  


Her head was dizzy, and she had to keep blinking to focus. Perhaps the air down in this room was bad? Rey realized with a jolt that her loins felt heavy and cramping. Gods, what a perfect time to also get her monthlies. She’d never have the nerve to leave this room ever again. Maybe she could sneak back up to the washroom in the dark.

  


She heard another groan. Ben.

  


Rey leaned over and timidly touched his shoulder. He jerked up like he’d been shot and looked at her confusedly.

  


“Are you alright?” she said.

  


He shook his head. “No, I’ve taken poorly. I’m afraid it might have been that powder that I inhaled.”

  


Rey raised up, alarmed. “What do you mean? Are you ill? Poisoned?” She rooted in the footlocker, looking for the first-aid kit. Very often they contained effective purgatives.

  


“Er, not exactly,” answered Ben, miserably. “Did you…happen to ingest any of it too?”

  


Rey arched an eyebrow at him. “Ingest? No. I did touch it a bit, since I cleaned it off of you, and also washed it out of the basin in the washroom. Why?”

  


Ben inhaled a very slow breath, and then exhaled through his nostrils. Rey recognized this gesture from her own meditations. He was trying to not lose control.

  


“I did a bit of reading while you were out. I was feeling more and more out of sorts, but I thought it might just be having to be down here and feeling closed in. But gradually, things took a turn. I feel very hot and have a derangement…well, it isn’t gentlemanly to say.” 

  


Honestly, Rey was beginning to feel more discomfiture in her own person. As if a blast of sodium bicarbonate was rocketing around her whole body. How very odd.

  


“Ben, I’m sure you can tell me. If you are sick, I need to take care of you. If you can’t tell me, I won’t know how to help.”

  


Bloody man, he’d rather die than have woman help him, she reflected crossly.

  


“Were you educated in the classics?” Ben asked. Rey gazed at him in confusion. What a time to interrogate her on her educational refinement.

  


“I had tutors when I went to live with Grandfather. They took pains with my education,” Rey answered stiffly.

  


He nodded unhappily. “As I was reading the book by Ibn al-Hajj Muhammed I began to be aware of a distinct sensation. You know, if you studied the classics, of a figure named…”

  


“Ben, is this really the time?” Rey asked irritably. A bombardment was roaring overhead, she was stuck in a cave, and being lectured on classics by Ben bloody Solo. Her clothes felt too tight and the cramping seized her again.

  


“Priapus,” intoned Ben, staring at the ceiling. Rey jerked again and then stared at Ben, willing herself to look only at his eyes.

  


“It’s not fit talk in the presence of a lady,” Ben lamented, clutching his midsection. “But I am afraid.”

  


She knew exactly was priapism was, since indeed she had had a classical education--Ben seemed to be suffering and not at all joyful. The rising in her own loins made more sense. Had she been exposed in a lesser degree to what had poisoned Ben Solo?

  


She watched as he attempted to approach the subject from another direction. “Anyway, as my disquieting symptoms arose, I read on in the book. The substance in the wooden box that we were exposed to was pollen, from a rare species of poppy. Ibn al-Hajj Muhammed recommended it for use with charms for love. Our Victorian collector seems to have obtained some and placed it with the book for his collection.”

  


“Ben, I observed earlier to myself that you seem prone to over-explaining things when you feel overwhelmed by circumstances. I wonder if you would agree that this is true.” 

  


“I…I definitely feel overwhelmed,” he groaned. “You should leave.”

  


He must have been truly delirious. Rey would be obliterated immediately by a bomb if she attempted to leave.

  


In addition, a lassitude had washed all over her limbs. She couldn’t walk at the moment if she wanted to. Rey felt as if she’d been submerged in a warm seltzer bath.

  


“What else did the book say?” Rey asked. She could attempt to soothe Ben’s distress by distracting him in the academic realm.

  


Ben slumped over again, this time diving further to lay on his side, clutching his ribs. Another low sound escaped him, but he rallied enough to answer her.

  


“The news is not encouraging,” he began.

  


“Not surprising, coming from you,” Rey retorted. 

  


Ben lifted an eyebrow in puzzlement, continuing, “There is no, er, counter-spell to lift the effects of this affliction, unfortunately.”

  


“Oh. Oh.” 

  


She heard Ben sigh, and he turned over with his back to her. “You should just try to get some sleep if you can. I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’m sure the effects will wear off soon—everything will look better in the morning.” 

  


Rey felt uneasy in leaving even Ben Solo in a state of suffering, but his condition, though uncomfortable, was probably not fatal. She laid back down with her back facing his and closed her eyes. She couldn’t possibly sleep, but at least she could give the man some privacy and dignity.

  


The state of her own limbs would not let her rest. The back of her eyelids were like a movie screen, but in color, projecting wild and orgiastic imagery. She tried to reach out with her senses to distract herself, smelling the damp walls of the shelter, cool with old enamel paint. The scratch of the wool blanket that pressed into her face. The warmth of Ben’s back, radiating from his mass, like he had his own gravitational pull.

  


Rey found herself reaching behind her, ever so slowly. She’d just touch him a little, to check on the state of him. He might have fainted. Snaking her hand slowly behind her, she slithered her fingers toward Ben, across the nap of the thick blanket, seeking.

  


Instead of feeling the soft layer of Ben’s shirt, her fingers were halted by the touch of skin—she started, and realized that she’d arrived at Ben’s own fingers, which were also outstretched toward herself. Wordlessly, Rey threaded her fingers into his, hooking them together. He said nothing, but she felt an answering press of his hand.

  


A galvanzing bolt sparked up through her arm, and her senses contracted to one single point connected at their fingers.

  


The scenes behind her eyelids danced faster, a parade of scenes like colourized French postcards, the kind she wasn’t supposed to know about. Her face bloomed with heat and blood. 

  


“I lied,” said Ben.

  


Rey jerked her eyes open but willed her body to remain still.

  


“I lied. This doesn’t wear off,” he continued. “The only way to remove the effect is to give into it. It’s an affliction with its own cure.” Rey could hear the bitterness in his voice, which seemed to grow deeper.

  


“The book,” she said.

  


“And the notes left by the collector. More from him, actually. The book author was a religious scholar and a lawyer. The collector was some kind of libertine. Apparently, his experiments were extensive and thorough. How he found so many young ladies willing to—well, that’s neither here nor there. The results were always the same, however.” 

  


She thought she could hear Ben’s voice grow raspy, as if he were suppressing gasps of strain. Rey wished she could see his face. The muscles of her belly tightened.

  


She rotated to face his back, releasing his hand for a moment. She heard a low cry of distress. “Shhh, it’s alright, I’m here,” she said, and laced her fingers into his once more.

  


She felt him drive a fist into his side of the mattress. “This is beastly,” he said. “What kind of monster leaves such a substance for unsuspecting fools like me to have contact with.”

  


“And me,” said Rey. Ben lurched around to look her in the face at last, and she nodded regretfully. “I got a lesser dose, but the last hour has been—interesting, to say the least.” He closed his eyes.

  


“You must have,” said Ben. “I haven’t felt this tormented by animal longing since the sixth form.” He grimaced.

  


Rey felt bolder with Ben when his eyes were shut. “Have you ever…?” she asked.

  


“Just the once, on holidays from College. It was rather disastrous,” Ben answered.

  


Rey brought his fingers up to her lips, rubbing the pads of them across her mouth, and shivered at the silky feeling. Another spasm crossed Ben’s face. He had the air of a puffball mushroom in the forest, quivering to release its spores at the slightest touch.

  


No one had ever shown the merest interest in Rey in her life. The dictatorial air of her grandfather chilled the enthusiasm of any potential suitor. It was sad to think the only person to show a sense of desire in her presence had to be drugged by accident in order to do so. Ben’s obvious unwillingness to tell her what had befallen him, or to trust her to help him showed he was otherwise quite disinterested in her as a person.

  


It felt wicked to take advantage of his state in order to slake her curiosity, even in what might be her only opportunity for intimacy. Surely the effects would work their way out of his system eventually, and then he’d hate her for imposing on him while he was in a weak and helpless state. They were not friends, but at least they’d arrived at a fragile detente. Life would be less lonely with Ben as an ally, instead of an antagonist. Rey would be wrong to spoil this hope.

  


She silently congratulated herself on her abundance of character, and regretfully removed his fingers from her lips. His forehead was framed by the collapsed glossy strands of his black hair, damp with struggle and sweat. Rey couldn’t help feeling some tenderness for his state. By contrast, she felt warm and vital, and wished she could embrace him.

  


Ben’s face was as still and stern as a modern bust of carved granite. “I apologize, Miss Palpatine. Rey. You have been subjected to outrageous circumstances and insult tonight. I hope you understand that I would otherwise never…,” he intoned.

  


“Yes, I’m aware,” Rey said, a bit more tartly than she’d intended.

  


His eyes blinked open.

  


“I know you hate me; I know I’m plain; I know I’m not as smart or well-educated,” she continued. “I’m sorry you’re stuck here with me in this condition. I’m sure this is the worst possibility for you, forced into proximity with a girl like me.” 

  


“Miss—Rey,” Ben said, brokenly. “I wish I could tell you how wrong you are.”

  


Seized by temper, Rey shot up to a sitting position. “Oh, do you? All these months, I would have done anything to be treated as a friend by you. You say tonight you have been insulting, but what about all the other days? A small word of kindness and I would have been loyal for life. You made it plain you considered my presence a burden. Grandfather says I’m stealing the position a man should have, and I suppose you feel that way too. The war will be over someday though, and you’ll never have to be bothered by me ever again.”

  


Another wave of feeling washed through her veins and she felt light-headed from the emotion of her long speech and buried her head in her knees and started to cry.

  


“I thought you hated me,” Ben said. Rey sobbed harder. “I kept you at arm’s length, because I didn’t want to have any expression of affection from me be rebuffed,” he continued

  


“There you go, over-explaining things again,” she said in a watery voice, attempting to get her emotions under control. She could feel him drawing closer, and she felt his heavy hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair to soothe her. Rey leaned into the caress, stroking her head against his palm.

  


She heard Ben clear his throat, with a low guttural sound like a forest cat. “I’ll be happy to show you, instead of explaining. However, this will be your one chance to tell me to not bother you—I have just enough strength to resist but only just. One slight urging from you again, and I will not be able to answer for what comes next.”

  


Rey looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. “Conversely, this is also your chance to refuse me. One word from you, and we will never speak of any of this, but carry on from here as friends, nothing more.”

  


Ben was silent.

  


She picked up his other hand, drew it to her mouth and kissed the center of his open palm. With startling power, Ben lunged over her sitting body and pinned her legs down with his and began tearing at his shirt buttons. Rey batted his hands away and began to undo them herself. His hands thus freed, he tore at her snood and hair fastenings, pulling out strand after strand over her shoulders.

  


“I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he whispered. Rey had gotten his shirt over his shoulders and he flung it off and followed it with his undershirt. Rey bit her lip and began to unbutton the top of her shirtwaist dress. Ben leaned in closer and drew her into a soft kiss, which he pressed into with a thrust of his head—scooping along her jaw with questing fingers curling gently around her neck. Rey shivered.

  


The swaying light of the yellowish bulb overhead made everything appear outlined and heightened. Shadows passed over Ben’s face, shading it in a mask, and then revealing soft youthful features, suffused with desire.

  


He hugged her into him as he began to pluck at the hooks of her brassiere, and she felt every soft pop as each one was released. Ben clawed the garment off of her, and then sucked a line of kisses down the side of her neck. Lush sensations seeped across her skin.

  


Shyly, she stroked across his shoulders, drunk on awareness--on feeling permitted to touch and explore. Ben responded to the caresses with yielding softness, nuzzling into her throat. Braver, she reached slowly toward the buttons of his trousers with one hand.

  


“No. I mean, not yet,” Ben rumbled. He reached down to the waist of her dress and flung it over her head. Rey was afraid her underthings were not very pretty, but Ben seemed oblivious. Watching for Rey to nod, he palmed her breast, rolling one nipple under his fingers, and watching her gasp. He placed one thigh between her legs and grasped her thighs in both of his hands. He rubbed her center against the top of his thigh until Rey caught his intentions and plunged her hips against him, inflaming her.

  


Leaning over her, he began to attend to her breasts with renewed attention. His hot breathing roared in her ears as she wantonly thrust against him, hardly knowing which direction to advance in, as both her upper body and lower body were rolling with sensation.

  


“Ben,” she said shivering. She felt exposed and was anxious her wantonness was too unrestrained.

  


A gleam appeared in his eye, and he captured one of her wrists. He ground again with his thigh into her cunt, watching her bite her lip. He agitated her with this limb, and whispered hotly into her ear, “Let me please you with my body. I’ve got you; you can let go.”

  


Rey crushed his thigh between her legs, and submerged her head into his chest, sheltered. All thought flew from her, and she was swallowed in fall after fall of charged pleasure, a tremendous thunderclap shook through her. As sensations ebbed, she became aware of a small soft wet spot in her underwear, but she had hardly the sensibility to care.

  


Ben rocked into her, moved by her passions. He seemed hesitant to progress beyond their present level of activity. Rey overcame her self-consciousness and took the initiative to be bold. She moved a fingertip down his stomach to his waist button, and then palmed over the front of his trousers. His cock seemed to beg for her touch, rising to her fingers, and she stroked it through the rough nap of wool. 

  


“I’m going to come in my trousers like a schoolboy if you keep on in that manner,” he panted.

  


Rey displayed her teeth in a wide grin, heady with the feeling of being in control at last. “Maybe you should let go now, I’ve got you.”

  


Ben smiled back and looked down. “So you do, but I’d like to come inside you.” Rey hummed. He seemed to understand her hesitation. “Back in a moment,” he said.

  


He fished into the footlocker and brought out the first-aid kit, extracting some small crinkling envelopes. “These are supposed to keep soldiers out of mischief.”

  


“Well, I guess they are serving their purpose now,” Rey quipped. Ben quirked his eyebrows, and said, “I’m hoping to get even deeper into mischief. But now we’re covered.” 

  


Feeling more confident by the moment, Rey peeled apart the fly of Ben’s trousers, while he gripped the back of her head with eager fingers. He kissed her again and again, impeding her progress, but finally she worked his waistband down to his thighs and then hooked a finger into the band of his underthings.

  


Another wave of sensation crested through her, and she was no longer sure if it was the chemical high of the mysterious pollen, or the intoxication of her natural eagerness. Rey found she didn’t really care which it might be.

  


While Ben attended quickly to placing a condom on, Rey slithered out of her underwear, quivering with nerves and keenness to feel the novelty of having a man inside. “I’ve never,” she said, once examining what emerged from Ben’s boxers with a note of concern.

  


A slightly hungry expression passed over his face, a wolfish possessiveness. He smoothed his features into a more reassuring look and stroked the inside of her thigh.

  


“I’ll be very careful,” he said, his voice low and gentle. His face was slightly manic, his jaw clenched from iron control while aching from the effects of the chemicals—it was taking every inch of his control to not simply ravish her.

  


Rey petted his hair, and he burrowed his face into her neck and jaw, trailing his lips across her jugular. She was enthralled with his devouring attentions. She felt him guide himself to her slippery cunt, stroking her as he deliberately eased himself in.

  


Hands gripped the top of her head, and she flung her heels across his back, reveling in the plunge of his cock as he rooted himself inside her. It didn’t hurt a bit, and her breath labored out her nostrils as she spurred him on, thrusting upwards in encouragement.

  


He took her meaning avidly, and sunk himself into her, pushing her head down slightly to get into her as deep as he could, spearing her into immobility. A wordless shout rattled from Rey’s throat, followed by intensifying cries of joy. 

  


“Oh God,” Ben shouted, and his halting breaths grew faster and faster. The thrusting increased, and Rey could hear wet noises from where they were joined. He brought himself up slightly so he wouldn’t smother her and took care to watch her face as she writhed on his cock. “Do you like that?” he asked breathlessly. He probed her from within and repeated the motion until Rey fell apart under him, lightning coursing through her nerves again, and she was breathless and convulsed. It felt as if a giant velvet hand grasped her entire body, stroking it.

  


His face tensed as his release shattered him--he propelled himself fiercely in one last thrust, and then collapsed, buzzing with rasping nonsense words. He twitched, and then groaned.

  


Rey rubbed his back in slow circles, coming back to her senses in wonderment. She felt him shift, and he gently extracted himself from her and then lay back down next to her. He examined her face, and then skimmed light kisses down her cheeks and mouth.

  


“Did that work?” asked Rey. Ben looked at her, puzzled for a moment, and then awareness dawned.

  


“The brutish desire to rut you senseless to remove the effects of the pollen seems to have dissipated,” he answered. “However, it has now been replaced by a desire to rut you senseless just because I want to.” 

  


Rey chuckled richly in affection. “I must report similar findings from my department,” she answered.

  


“I’m afraid this will do nothing good for your reputation, Miss Palpatine,” said Ben. “Also, I’m a disappointment to my family, and I cannot even woo you with good wine and food. It will have to be potted meat and ale until rationing is over, I fear.”

  


He flipped over onto his back and put his arms behind his head, looking up at the sepia lightbulb. “This wasn’t a very romantic spot either.” 

  


Rey felt warmth seep into her bones. “On the contrary, I thought it was perfect. Every woman wants to be courted in a large stone castle by a brooding prince.”

  


Ben guffawed, “Hardly a prince, but I can supply the brooding.” 

  


Getting under the blanket, he tucked her in next to him. Rey propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him.

  


“I supposed we should really have another go, for the sake of research. I mean what kind of academics would be we be if drew conclusions from only one sample,” she said.

  


“That’s true, Miss Palpatine. You make a very salient point. What does your department propose?” he rejoined.

  


Rey pondered. “We have a few hours until the all-clear. I suggest we have a cup of tea, create an agenda, and then craft a course of experiments. This might be a project of several months, however. This basement might need some more supplies and a few more comforts. Unless you have a different recommendation, sir.”

  


A glitter in Ben’s eye arrested her recommendations. He said, “If you keep calling me ‘sir’ you may find this course of study far more rigorous than you may have bargained for.”

  


“This sounds like a phenomenon that requires closer examination, Mr. Solo. A true scientist doesn’t shirk from analysis. Sir.” 

  


Ben growled into the crook of her arm and exclaimed something muffled as he flipped Rey onto her stomach.

  


“What was that?” she inquired, breathless.

  


“I said, I’ll give you ‘closer examination.’” Ben answered.

  


And so he did.

**Author's Note:**

> The book in this story is a real book, but the author is completely blameless for my horrible interpretation of his work for a sex pollen fic. It was coincidence that the University of Exeter Archives tweeted a page from the book almost at the same time that Jeeno proposed the sex pollen prompt. 
> 
> https://twitter.com/UoEHeritageColl/status/1248183058404163585?s=20
> 
> I still don't know how to use html in the notes here, hopefully some day someone will let me in on the secret.
> 
> All of the references to World War Two in this story are a pastiche of all the other stories I like set in World War Two Britain, and if you spot similarities, you are probably right. This is porn, and I wanted to have my characters wear cute clothes, inhale pollen, and have sex in a basement during dangerous circumstances. 
> 
> All attempted Britishisms are my American bastardizations, and you may abuse me in the comments on where I went wrong. 
> 
> Since my husband asked, a snood is a knitted or crocheted sack you wear on your hair. 
> 
> Yes, condoms were a thing back then. That part I did bother to look up. Also Exeter *was* bombed by the Germans during their bombing campaign. But remember, this is porn, with pollen. 
> 
> The art is mine, I go by Starry Messenger on twitter and tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this totally ridiculous bit of escapism.


End file.
